The Futility of Confronting Carelessness

A sudden burst of anger,
verging on rage, propels
the man across a field to
stand on the street calling
out the neighbor’s name,
calling out the neighbor
for putting the man and his
wife and dog and cyclist
on the road in front of them
in danger by careless, selfish,
law breaking driving, a
common occurrence for the
selfish, self-absorbed, care-
less neighbor. He screams
at the top of his lungs: Stop
it, stop it, stop it! knowing
as the words blow out of his
mouth that the neighbor
could not care any less,
would never, ever care
and would simply stand
in his driveway with a smirk
on his face. The man turns
and walks back across the
field mumbling, in self-
recrimination and embarr-
assment, so much for losing
it and that it is useless
to scream at all the careless-
ness, all the overwhelming
carelessness. There is just
so very much carelessness.
He shakes his head at the
futility of trying to change
Zebra stripes and so, decides
that he would be quiet, and
as long as he still lives in
a nation of laws would, the
next time, call the cops,
lodge a complaint and let
it go or maybe try to
reason with the neighbor?
Hmmm. He doesn’t think so.

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One thought on “The Futility of Confronting Carelessness

  1. tRumpistan … where I do as I please, and get outta my way … and those who might question my bold self-assertion, well ya’ better look out, because I might just have a gun … and my Bible, too … and all my GOP friends who, btw, are all wonderfully white, prosperity-gospel bound, and plagued with that damn stiff-armed salute (where the hell did that come from?), but so be it … salute and all, KKK and ye olde Confederate Flag, some beer-fueled incoherence … and all the je-e-sus I can consume … woo hoo … on my way to heaven, because I’m right … and if ya’ wanna call the cops, remember, I have friends there … militarized friends … boom.

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